


Orchidaceae

by mercuryhatter



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Human AU, Other, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryhatter/pseuds/mercuryhatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where Crowley owns a flower shop and Aziraphale likes orchids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orchidaceae

**Author's Note:**

> trans woman Aziraphale (she/her) and transfeminine nonbinary Crowley (they/them) because I can.

Sandwiched between an ice cream place and a record store, the flower shop was small and shadowed, draped in green vines like a swamp or a jungle. The humidity of the air increased as one walked past, heavy in the throat with the smell of hibiscus and carrying the faint strains of an eighties’ rock station. It really wasn’t the most welcoming of places-- no unthreatening bouquets of roses or refrigerator of corsages to be seen-- but it had an incredible selection of orchids, both rare and common, and that was what Aziraphale was after. 

“Hello?” she called, after the chime from the door died down. There was a low, constant murmur from someone somewhere in the shop, but there were too many plants and trees and not enough light to see anywhere easily, and her call was only answered with a half-irritated “just a minute!”

Well, Aziraphale certainly wasn’t one to judge customer service. She settled in to peruse the plants, humming along a bit with the music, more audible now that she was inside. The murmuring became clearer as the shop’s owner walked forward, carrying a wilted fern in one hand and a red and white cane in the other.

“...expected better from you, you know, I thought you were one of the good ones. Well, I guess that’s what I get for trusting a holly fern. They always let you down. I hope you feel good about yourself, you regrettable specimen of a potted plant. One of us should.” They passed another fern of the same species and poked at its fronds. “And let this be an example to you, too, don’t think I haven’t felt those dry spots.”

“Does that help?” Aziraphale asked politely. The owner cocked their head in question. “Talking to them,” Aziraphale clarified.

“Oh. A bit, yeah, I think so, anyway.” The owner shrugged, shifting the plant to shove their cat-eyed sunglasses up their nose with one finger. They spoke with a slight lisp, one that Aziraphale actually found quite pleasant.

“It seems unorthodox. I thought you were supposed to play them… Elgar, or something.” The owner made a very offended face.

“Absolutely not. A little fear is just what they need. Isn’t that right?” they said threateningly in the direction of the less wilted fern. “Anyway, I’ve just got to put this one outside and I’ll be right with you.” 

“Of course,” Aziraphale said, returning to the orchid selection. The owner returned in a few minutes, making sure to walk past the other fern conspicuously empty-handed before finding their way to where Aziraphale stood.

“I’m Crowley,” they said, sticking out a hand to shake. “After orchids, or just looking?” 

“I’m after orchids,” Aziraphale confirmed. 

“What kind?” Crowley asked, brushing past Aziraphale to point out a splotchy pink one with round petals. “Phalaenopsis are very popular. Easier to care for than some of the more finicky ones. They won’t mind if you forget about them in a window for a week or so.” 

“I actually have a few of those already,” Aziraphale said, brushing the petals fondly. “I was looking for something a big more challenging?” Crowley grinned, a sly thing that crept farther up one side of their face than the other. 

“Angraecum,” they said decisively. “They’re called the comet orchid because they’re shaped like stars.” They leaned their cane against the table and lifted a white flower with pointy petals and a long tail-like protrusion, surprisingly long fingers tracing the shape. “And they smell like heaven.” Crowley offered the plant to Aziraphale, who took it and breathed in the scent with a smile. 

“You’re right,” she said, and Crowley beamed. “Yes, I’ll take this one.” 

“Great!” Crowley said, picking up their cane again and striding to the cash register. Aziraphale lost them briefly in the plants but could follow the sounds of buttons being pushed as Crowley rang up her purchase. 

“Here’s the care instructions, and some starter stuff, on the house,” Crowley said, putting the mentioned items into a paper bag, and then, before Aziraphale could make a polite protestation, they continued in a rush, “and this is my phone number, at the bottom of the receipt. There’s, um. There’s an ice cream place next door, they’ve got a really good pistachio. You know, if you want to. No pressure or, um. Anything.” It was hard to tell, but Aziraphale was pretty sure Crowley was blushing. That was fair. Aziraphale herself was definitely blushing. 

“Oh,” she said, entirely forgetting to say something about the gifts. “I like pistachio.” 

“Good!” Crowley said, one hand fluttering nervously as they laughed. “Uh, good, yeah. So, whenever you’re free, or whatever.” 

“Tomorrow?” Aziraphale suggested quickly.

“Yeah! Yeah, tomorrow’s good.” 

“Good.” Aziraphale hesitated, then reached over to pat Crowley’s hand. She wasn’t quite sure what she meant by the gesture, but she wanted to do something, and it was definitely not within etiquette to kiss Crowley already. Crowley was definitely blushing now, if they hadn’t been already, and made a bit of a strangled noise in their throat behind their embarrassed smile.

“Um, yeah. See you,” they said, and promptly fled, probably to go talk down to another plant. Aziraphale smiled to herself, then at the orchid, and almost caught herself smiling at a customer when she got back to the book shop.


End file.
